Gems of Truth 
 and Fancy 
 
 FANNIE HERRON COOKE 
 
 BATTLE CREEK, MICH 
 1900 
 
17699 
 
 Library of Congress 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 JUL 11 1900 
 
 Copyright entry 
 
 H..&./2S&Q... 
 
 SECOND COPY. 
 
 Delivered to 
 
 OROLR DIVISION, 
 JUL 13 1 900 
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 IQOO 
 
 I 
 
 j 6 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 yIELDING wisely, or unwisely, to numer- 
 v- ous requests, the author has gathered 
 
 together the children of her brain, and 
 sends them forth into the great busy world, 
 to rind if, perchance, there be a vacant niche 
 awaiting them. Humble little workers are 
 they, their only mission being to bring (if they 
 may) a little comfort, a wee bit of sunshine, into 
 some darkened life, or pleasantly to beguile an 
 otherwise lonely hour. 
 
 F. H. C. 
 
TO MY MOTHER : 
 
 Mother, name that stands for blessing, 
 Greatest e'er to mortal «iv'n. 
 
GOD IS EVERYWHERE. 
 
 ASKED a flower that 
 proudly reared its 
 head, 
 And on each passer-by 
 
 love's incense shed, 
 1 ' Whence come these 
 robes of more than 
 mortal sheen ? 
 In halls of men the like 
 was never seen." 
 I bent above the dainty, upturned 
 
 face, 
 The lines of magic loveliness to 
 
 trace, 
 When, lo, as though with ecstacy it 
 
 stirred, 
 And to my list'ning heart breathed 
 one sweet word - — 
 "God." 
 
 The south wind murmured softly to the trees, 
 So sure it seemed the message it would please, 
 I wished that I the secret, too, might share. 
 (Was it in answer to unspoken prayer? ) 
 
I felt it touch my cheek with soft caress, 
 That sweet, pure air of heaven's blessedness — 
 The while it whispered rev'rently and low, 
 The secret that I had so longed to know,— 
 "God." 
 
 I met a little child, whose garments rare 
 Betokened of earth's goods a plenteous share ; 
 Whose toy-filled arms and happy, smiling face, 
 Betokened in fond hearts a cherished place. 
 ' ' Who gives to you such pretty things, my child ?' ' 
 Her look, surprised, rebuked me ; then she smiled, 
 And lisped in baby accents, sweet and clear, 
 A word I tho' t not from her lips to hear — 
 "Dod." 
 
 A busy toiler — one who in life's race 
 Scarce knew the meaning of a resting, place — 
 I sought to offer sympathy and cheer, 
 But vowed to cease my questioning and fear, 
 When, with a restful look upon her face, 
 She smiled, and answered me with winning grace 
 " My friend, we cannot go beyond the length, 
 The source from which I daily draw my strength— 
 'God.' " 
 
MORNING GLORIES. 
 
 ORNING glories, — sweet-faced dar- 
 lings, — 
 Nodding, bending, whisp'ring, smiling, 
 Early come to give me greeting, 
 Say to me, ' ' This life is fleeting ; 
 Up ! arise, and join our number, 
 Waste not time in idle slumber. ' ' 
 
 Ah ! ye fairies of the morning, 
 Dressed in colors of the rainbow; 
 You but charm me as you're creeping 
 O'er my window, at me peeping ; 
 Woo me, soothe me, till I'm dreaming 
 Dreams with sweetest fancies teeming. 
 
 Could I keep you, fairy darlings, 
 But, like all our earthly pleasures, 
 You are born but to be dying, 
 Soon in your green caskets lying ; 
 Yet I hope again to meet you, 
 And as old-time friends to greet you. 
 
 9 
 
Farewell, then, bright morning fairies, 
 Till again sweet summer brings you. 
 Blest the lessons you have taught me, 
 Rich the fragrance you have brought me, 
 Still you'll leave me tender thoughts 
 And you're my " Forget-me-nots." 
 
WW 
 
 -$"\ 
 
 \ 
 
 THE ANGEL OF PEACE. 
 
 SAT in the deepening twilight 
 And mused on the problems of 
 earth, 
 Till, soothed by the mystical quiet, 
 My mind to strange fancies gave 
 birth. 
 The nightwind, as tho' in caressing, 
 Swayed gently the old poplar tree, 
 Whose light leaves, from slumber 
 awakened, 
 Mysteriously whispered to me. 
 The breath of the bonnie sweet brier, 
 Just kissed by the soft falling dew, 
 Came floating— the dear, dainty incense — 
 
 An offering of love pure and true ; 
 I heard, like a wand'rer in dreamland, 
 The plaintive good-night of a bird, 
 While tho'ts of a past, half-forgotten, 
 
 With tenderest memories stirred ; 
 And then, did I wake? — was I dreaming? 
 
 Or did the great Angel of Calm 
 Throw over my worn, troubled spirit, 
 
 The mist of her soul-healing balm 
 To soothe and refresh? Ah, I know not. 
 Nor can mortal lips ever tell 
 ii 
 
 \ 
 
Or picture that brief hour of blessing, 
 
 But this I can say — it is well. 
 For in that brief hour of my blessing, 
 
 (Mayhap from the sky of clear blue 
 Where little stars peeped thro' the azure 
 
 Like flow' rets of heaven's own hue), 
 There came to my heart a sweet presence 
 
 That lingers and brings swift release 
 From the burdens that else would o'erwhelm 
 me — 
 
 Yea, even the Angel of Peace. 
 
MY HONEY. 
 
 "OULD you like to see a picture of 
 my ' ' Honey ' ' as she stands 
 With her slender, graceful figure 
 and demurely folded hands ? 
 She's a queen — of course you'd know it 
 — but she rules our hearts by love, 
 And we think her just an angel, kindly 
 lent us from above. 
 Only sometimes we discover - listen while I whis- 
 per low — 
 A wee bit of human nature just enough. Ah, 
 
 yes ! you know. 
 But the picture? I will give it in my poor and 
 
 feeble way ; 
 Please be patient — words oft fail us when an an- 
 gel we'd portray. 
 She's a bonnie, blue-eyed lassie, and to me ex- 
 tremely fair, 
 With her smile of sunny sweetness, rosy lips, and 
 gold-brown hair ; 
 
 13 
 
Still her charm lies not in beauty (though of that 
 she has no lack ), 
 
 But a nameless something' — bother ! I can't tell 
 I'll take it back ; 
 
 I'll not try to paint her portrait — I was not an 
 artist born ; 
 
 Hut she's all that's sweet and lovely, like a beau- 
 tiful May morn, 
 
 And I love her ! Yes, I love her, and to win her 
 love I'll try. 
 
 If I should succeed — ah, rapture ! If I fail — tra 
 la — good-by. 
 
 
 ' ! 
 
MEMORY'S PICTURES. 
 
 HEN the busy day is ended, 
 and the twilight shad- 
 ows fall, 
 When the heart is stirred 
 with longing for the 
 days beyond recall ; 
 Then I trace in memory's 
 album, each familiar 
 spot and place, 
 But one picture holds me captive — 'tis my angel 
 mother's face. 
 
 And in fancy I behold her bending o'er my 
 
 trundle bed, 
 Praying softly that her darling may in pleasant 
 
 paths be led. 
 That her soul may be forever free from taint of sin 
 
 as now, 
 That her mother's God be her God and His seal 
 
 upon her brow. 
 
 Farther on I see a lassie, older and more wilful 
 
 grown, 
 Learning slowly one great lesson — life's not made 
 
 for self alone. 
 
 15 
 
Meeting childish grief and sorrow, very real to 
 
 childish heart ; 
 Finding mother's arms a refuge, learning there the 
 
 better part. 
 
 Thus I find on all the pages traces of a mother's 
 
 care. 
 Of a young life kept from evil, through a mother's 
 
 answered prayer ; 
 And I ponder till my weary heart is filled with 
 
 longing sore 
 For the mother-love to still protect and shield me, 
 
 as of yore. 
 
 Oh ! I wonder if the mothers realize the power 
 they hold, 
 
 When to them God has entrusted deathless char- 
 acters to mold ; 
 
 Or if sometimes grown aweary with the noise of 
 little feet, 
 
 With the constant childish prattle and the baby 
 voices sweet: 
 
 They forget that in the future grander shall their 
 
 harvest be, 
 Then the harvest of earth's great ones, who while 
 
 here their glory see ; 
 
 16 
 
And they sigh for something nobler than their 
 
 ev'ry day of care, 
 Long for larger fields of action — some brave deed 
 
 to do or dare. 
 
 Patient mothers with the wee ones looking lovingly 
 
 at you, 
 Finding in your eyes their heaven — greater work 
 
 can no one do. 
 And to you this world is looking for the vict'ry in 
 
 the strife, 
 Through your soldiers trained to battle for the 
 
 pure and true in life. 
 
 Toil on ! Be ye not discouraged — many battles 
 
 you have won, 
 And a crown awaits your wearing when your 
 
 earthly life is done. 
 Mother — name that stands for blessing, (greatest 
 
 e'er to mortals giv'n). 
 Home — the nation's sure foundation, and the 
 
 training school for heav'n. 
 
 >7 
 
THE LAND OF BY AND BY. 
 
 ^*HEY sing of the land of "Pretty 
 Soon," 
 With its hopes all unfulfilled, 
 With its dreams of joy not realized, 
 And its love which grief has stilled; 
 Of the patient, hopeful waiting 
 For happiness — a boon 
 Which many crave, but none receive, 
 In the land of ' ' Pretty Soon. ' ' 
 
 I'll sing to you of a better land, 
 The land of "By and By," 
 Where " God shall wipe away all tears 
 That now bedim the eye. ' ' 
 Where the moans of bitter anguish 
 Will be changed to songs of peace, 
 And weary hearts, from burdens sore, 
 Will find a sweet release. 
 
 Where the tangled web, which we call life, 
 Will stand out clear and bright, 
 And what seem now like broken threads 
 Will prove but changes right. 
 Look up ! ye weary hearted, 
 The days are passing by, 
 And each one brings you nearer still, 
 To the land of "By and By." 
 18 
 
ABIDE IN ME." 
 
 I^VBIDE in me," O wond'rous words 
 and sweet ! 
 Fain would I lie close by the 
 Master's feet, 
 Till purged of self, and every 
 taint of sin, 
 He bids His Holy Spirit enter in 
 The temple by Him cleansed, and there abide. 
 
 I am so weak I scarce can raise my eyes 
 To His dear face, so loving, tender, wise, 
 So tired am I, I cannot even think, 
 Save this — " Abide in me " — and then I sink 
 Into sweet rest, the rest to me God-given. 
 
 I found not this abiding place, till I 
 
 With tears and prayer, sought rest from self on 
 
 high ; 
 Then came the voice of Jesus, sweet and low, 
 " ' Abide in me,' you rest from self shall know 
 Let not your heart be troubled or afraid. 
 So though I'm weak, I'll surely stronger grow, 
 Branch of the Vine, His strength through me 
 
 shall flow. 
 Contentedly I now await His call, 
 (No knowing aught, but Jesus knows it all,) 
 And waiting, rest me still, upon His word. 
 19 
 
DAYDREAMS AND FANCIES. 
 
 H, the sweet scent of the 
 pretty red clover ! 
 Dear meadow roses so 
 fair; 
 How the rich fragrance 
 is touching my lone 
 heart, 
 Op'ning the closed 
 portals there; 
 Wak'ning to life many dim shadow-spirits, 
 
 Forms that have slumbered so long. 
 Still at her call, and as Memory beckons, 
 Cometh a glad, joyous throng. 
 
 Eagerly join I that phantom procession, 
 
 Part of the dearly loved past; 
 Once more in fancy my childish days living — 
 
 Mem'ry, what deep power thou hast ! 
 Now through green meadows I'm straying with 
 Katie, 
 
 Love of my childhood's lost day, 
 Weaving a garland of sweet clover blossoms, 
 
 Hearing the brooklet's soft lay; 
 
Watching the gay fireflies dancing and flitting, 
 
 Hither and thither and yon; 
 Strolling along through the deep purple shadows, 
 
 Wandering dreamily on. 
 Hark ! in stern accents grim Wisdom is speaking, 
 
 Bidding my sweet visions flee. 
 Quickly they vanish, but leave as a token, 
 
 Sweet scented clover for me. 
 
 Wisdom now biddeth me live for the present, 
 
 Count idle dreaming a sin, 
 Cease such vain folly and in the great future 
 
 Strive well-earned laurels to win. 
 Yes, I am listening — silent, obedient, 
 
 Sadly I bid them good-bye, 
 Daydreams and fancies. Still Hope's sweet angel 
 
 Smilingly points to the sky. 
 
 21 
 
'TIS FUNNY. 
 
 IS funny how Dame Fashion 
 rules the people of this 
 world, 
 With not a ripple in the air if 
 she says, "Sails un- 
 furled!" 
 You'll see the crowds go 
 rushing by, with sails 
 spread full and wide, 
 Because 'tis always wise to be upon the popular 
 side. 
 
 'Tis funny how the sterner sex will meekly wear 
 
 the yoke 
 Of fashion, whatsoe'er it be, and then at women 
 
 croak. 
 Where are our men of middle age, with faces 
 
 bearded o'er? 
 Dame Fashion wave her wand — and lo ! they're 
 
 beardless youths once more. 
 
 'Tis funny — but if most of them were in a pas- 
 ture seen, 
 
 They'd be short-lived — the cruel cows — they are 
 so fond of green. 
 
And our young men with flowing locks would 
 
 early death engender, 
 But who'd condemn the bovine taste? they look 
 
 so sweet and tender. 
 
 'Tis funny — but since I've begun the funny 
 
 things to see, 
 There's such a multitude of things that funny 
 
 seem to me, 
 They crowd me — overwhelm me — I'll not try to 
 
 tell the rest ; 
 Of course you'll think 'tis funny, but I'm very 
 
 sure 'tis best. 
 
 
 23 
 
TO SUSIE. 
 
 UT of the broad expanse of blue 
 Into a narrow way, 
 Let the boat drift, while we sit and 
 talk 
 Of the happiness of today. 
 The sloping shores, so thickly fringed 
 With bush and shrub and tree, 
 Are bowers of green, 
 Where the sun, I ween, 
 Cannot peep at you and me. 
 
 Slowly and placidly calm waters flow, 
 Down through this sylvan retreat, 
 And as we float round the river's bend — 
 Ah ! now the picture's complete. 
 To the busy workers in this world, 
 Who are weary in heart and brain, 
 Snch moments rare, 
 So free from care, 
 Are like the showers of rain, 
 That fall on the parched and fevered earth, 
 In the midst of summer's heat, 
 Refreshing and enabling it 
 To bring forth fruit complete. 
 24 
 
A few glad hours, then 'tis " Good-by, dear, 
 
 A little sigh of pain — 
 
 The dream is o'er : 
 
 But forevermore 
 
 We'll remember — " Lovers' Lane." 
 
 fW j 
 
 25 
 
RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ISTEN to the robin singing, 
 Singing in the maple tree ; 
 Ah, what tender recollections 
 He is bringing back to me. 
 
 Now I seem to see the cottage 
 ' Neath the shade-trees in the 
 lane ; 
 See the merry children play- 
 incr 
 Hear their voices once again, 
 
 As they laugh and shout with pleasure 
 
 In their merry, childish glee ; 
 There can be no fairer picture 
 
 Than my childhood's home to me. 
 
 Sunshine, golden bright, is streaming 
 
 From a smiling, azure sky, 
 While the little snow-white cloudlets 
 
 Lazily go floating by. 
 
 Yonder are the meadow grasses 
 
 Waving in the summer breeze ; 
 And the snowy-petaled daisies 
 
 Nodding, whisp'ring to the trees. 
 26 
 
But anon the vision changes. 
 
 'Tis the hour of twilight calm, 
 With the tender hush of nature 
 
 Stealing o' er us like a balm ; 
 
 And the soft, sweet air of evening 
 With its fragrance, rich and rare. 
 
 Seeming like the benediction 
 At the closing of a prayer. 
 
 Just within the vine-wreathed cottage, 
 Little white-robed figures glide 
 
 One by one, till all are kneeling 
 Rev'rently by mother's side. 
 
 Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear us, 
 Bless thy little lambs tonight," 
 
 Sweetly float the childish voices 
 Out into the dim twilight. 
 
 But these tears ! Why are they falling ? 
 
 Vanished the sweet vision now, 
 And I only hear the robin 
 
 Singing on the maple bough. 
 
 Yet the tender recollections 
 Of my childhood's happy day, 
 
 Like the faint perfume of rose-leaves, 
 We have pressed and laid away, 
 27 
 
Still will shed their subtle fragrance 
 O'er my life, what e'er it be, 
 
 And the singing of the robin 
 
 Bring my childhood back to me. 
 
 28 
 
THE DYING CHILD'S PLEA. 
 
 ON'T go out tonight, dear papa, stay 
 £r/ home with your little girl ; 
 
 "*For I've something I must tell you; 
 listen, please, to little Pearl. 
 Yes, I know you're tempted, papa, 
 but don't go tonight, I pray. 
 You will have no little daughter when there 
 dawns another day. 
 Oh ! how I have suffered, papa, since you struck 
 
 that fearful blow — 
 Don't cry, papa, for I love you — liquor did it all, 
 
 I know, 
 But last night as I was list'ning for the coming of 
 
 your feet, 
 Heart and head were throbbing wildly, strains of 
 
 heav nly music sweet 
 Suddenly filled all the silence ; and I felt a rest 
 
 and peace 
 O'er my weary spirit stealing ; for I knew it meant 
 
 release, 
 And a home in that bright heaven where I have so 
 
 longed to be, 
 With my precious angel mama, yes, a home in 
 heav'n for me. 
 
 29 
 
But I thought of you, dear papa, and I asked for 
 
 one more day 
 Just to give you this last message, e'er my spirit 
 
 passed away. 
 When the gay saloons would lure you with their 
 
 false and glittering light, 
 When the awful thirst has seized you and you 
 
 struggle with your might, 
 Think of me, your little daughter, pleading with 
 
 my dying breath — 
 Turn to Jesus — He will save you — do not die a 
 
 drunkard's death. 
 Hark ! Again I hear the music, sounding now so 
 
 soft and low, 
 I must leave you, kiss me, papa. Promise me 
 
 before I go. 
 Angels call me — good-by, papa. Don't forget 
 
 your little Pearl, 
 And I pray you heed the last words of your own 
 
 dear little girl. 
 
 30 
 
DRAW ME CLOSER. 
 
 ORD, I'm thine — I am not doubting- — 
 But there's closer union still, 
 
 And my heart is something lack- 
 ing, 
 That Thy love alone, can fill. 
 Draw me closer, blessed Jesus, 
 
 Closer, closer still to Thee, 
 Until e' en Thy gentlest whisper 
 Sweetly clear shall sound to me. 
 
 I am weary with the constant 
 Din and turmoil of the strife, 
 And with Thee I fain would linger 
 
 Near the fount of heav'nly life. 
 Jesus, Master, long I'm calling, 
 
 Dost Thou hear? I'm calling Thee. 
 Softly, sweetly came the answer, 
 "As thy faith, so shall it be." 
 
 31 
 
THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE. 
 
 S$$N accents stern the Saviour's voice was 
 heard, 
 His soul within by righteous anger 
 stirred : 
 " My Father's house shall be a house of 
 prayer, 
 
 And nought of evil find a refuge there. 
 Out ! hence ! ye cowards, thieves, think not to ply 
 Within the sacred courts of God Most High 
 Your dark, unholy trade." With scourge and 
 
 lash, 
 He drove them forth, amid the din and clash 
 Of gold and silver from the tables thrown, 
 And noise of startled beast, while man alone, 
 Amazed before the mighty power displayed, 
 Was silent. Then, our Saviour, undismayed 
 By threatening frown or sullen, angry face, 
 Moved calmly on with sweet, majestic grace, 
 And where, before, confusion reigned supreme, 
 The Son of righteousness now shed His beam ; 
 Rejoiced to find, 'mid solemn stillness there, 
 His Father's house once more a house of prayer. 
 
 32 
 
SORROW IN HEAVEN. 
 
 S there sorrow in heaven? Do the 
 angels e'er weep? 
 Thus queries my heart, as in reverie 
 
 deep, 
 I muse on life's problems, its toil 
 and its care, 
 - Till my thoughts drift away to the 
 ~ < S^^ r * home " over there," 
 
 And the loved ones who've crossed over Jordan's 
 
 dark tide, 
 With the boatman so pale sitting close by their 
 
 side: 
 Have the splendors of heaven, its glories untold, 
 So enraptured their hearts, as its joys they behold. 
 That they've never a thought and never a care 
 For the pain and the grief they have left us to 
 
 bear. 
 As we struggle along over life's stormy way, 
 Till our souls are chilled by the mists, cold and 
 gray? 
 
 33 
 
When humanity's wail is flung out on the air, 
 Horn of sharp, cruel anguish, and bitter despair, 
 Do their golden harps ring with as joyous a strain, 
 As they chant "Worthy, worthy the Lamb that 
 
 was slain? " 
 Are their hearts all untouched by the weal or the 
 
 woe, 
 Of the thousauds of struggling mortals below? 
 
 Or does there, at times, mingle with the glad strain, 
 A soft undertone, with a minor refrain, 
 And o'er the blue sea float the sounds of a song, 
 As though teardrops were tangled their harp-strings 
 
 among? 
 Ah, heart, cease thy questioning ! sadly I sigh; 
 And seek not for wisdom from one weak as I ! 
 
 But when, in the future thy work shall be done, 
 And the Father shall call the wanderer home ; 
 When the soul shall have burst its fast prison bars, 
 And w ended its way far beyond the bright stars, 
 Then to thee shall God's plans, like fair lilies, un- 
 fold, 
 And heaven's own secrets forever be told. 
 
 34 
 
A PARABLE IN RHYME. 
 
 HEARD a wee, beautiful birdling 
 
 Pour forth his sweet notes of pure love, 
 And listened, entranced, to the singer, 
 I Whose message seemed sent from 
 abow , 
 Till no other music could charm me ; 
 His blithe song alone could I hear; 
 And when he e'er ceased from his singing, 
 My heart, it was filled with strange fear, 
 And I heard not the music of songbirds, 
 Tho 'round me they sweetly did sing; 
 I grieved for the voice of my birdling, 
 
 Naught else to me pleasure could bring, 
 Until seemed these words plainly spoken : 
 " Oh, wayward heart, cease to repine, 
 And wrong not thy God by weak doubtings; 
 
 Have faith, and the joy shall be thine. 
 Then while thou art waiting, look 'round thee 
 
 On glory of field and of wood, 
 The sunshine enjoy, and remember, 
 
 That all of God's gifts — they are good." 
 
 35 
 
THE LITTLE WHITE FAIRIES. 
 
 'HE little white fairies came out 
 one night, 
 The little white fairies of Love; 
 Gently they beckoned the snow- 
 flakes down 
 From the fleecy cloudlets 
 above: 
 " ( )ur poor mother earth is all 
 cold and bare, 
 Bereft of her mantle of green, 
 Let's make her a cov'ring so soft and warm, 
 The fairest that ever was seen." 
 
 So all night the snowflakes came fluttering down, 
 
 Cov'ring the bare, brown earth; 
 The little white fairies worked busily, too, 
 
 And laughed with silvery mirth. 
 Next morn when the sun arose in haste, 
 
 To flood this world with light. 
 He thought he had surely made a mistake, 
 
 It was such a charming sight; 
 
 The earth was arrayed in a pure white robe; 
 
 The trees with garlands were hung ; 
 Each bush and shrub with bright jewels bedecked 
 
 As though from fairyland sprung: 
 36 
 
' ' Can this be the same earth I left last night, 
 
 Shiv'ring and cold and bare, 
 With autumn winds through leafless trees, 
 
 Like sound of sobbing prayer?" 
 
 And the old earth answered softly, " The same, 
 
 Transformed by the fairies of Love, 
 Who sent her tiny white messengers 
 
 To cloudland up above, 
 And besought the queen of that airy realm, 
 
 From her ever bounteous store 
 To spare enough snowrlakes a mantle to make ; 
 
 So they came and covered me o'er." 
 
 And so the little white fairies of Love 
 
 Work ceaselessly day and night, 
 Transforming the ugly things of earth, 
 
 Making them pure and bright. 
 We catch not the rustle of silken wings, 
 
 We feel not their perfumed breath ; 
 But they glide unseen, bringing blessings untold, 
 
 And are faithful unto death. 
 
 37 
 
HE LITTLE BROWN FAIRIES. 
 
 HEN little brown fairies are out 
 around, 
 You know by the atmosphere ; 
 'Tis dark, and dismal, and damp, 
 and cold, 
 With never a glimmer of cheer. 
 
 The tires burn low, with a slow, sullen glow, 
 
 The lights are nickering dim ; 
 The wind outside goes oo-oo-oo, 
 
 The ocean's waves say bim-m — 
 
 And wildly dash on the cold gray shore, 
 
 In a madly whirling dance, 
 Then quickly break into thousands of forms. 
 
 Like spectres playing at Chance. 
 
 Above, the low' ring and leaden-hued clouds 
 
 Go hurrying, scurrying by ; 
 The trees wave wildly their long, naked arms 
 
 Towards the dark and threat' ning sky, 
 
 And nature seems then to be strongly convulsed, 
 
 The elements all in uproar ; 
 But little brown fairies just chuckle and laugh, 
 
 Then plunge into mischief the more. 
 38 
 
Nearly ev'ry one's cross, and chronic complainers, 
 
 Who call life a burden, so sore, 
 Bewail their sad fate yet more loudly than ever : 
 ' ' No mortals so ill-used before. ' ' 
 
 Whenever you find things in this bad condition, 
 
 Brown fairies are surely about. 
 They'll capture you, too, if you're not very careful. 
 
 just mind what I tell you — Watch out ! 
 
 qp 
 
 39 
 
THE SOUL'S QUERY. 
 
 H, tell me ! Is this life? This rest- 
 less fever 
 So filled with visions dark and 
 spectres gaunt ; 
 Where vice so boldly flaunts her gilded 
 banner, 
 And sorrows, like pale ghosts, our 
 mem'ries haunt ; 
 Where faces, wreathed in smiles, are masks that 
 cover 
 The hearts whose ceaseless aching naught can 
 still ; 
 And careless jests and laughter are the requiem 
 
 Of hopes the future never will fulfill? 
 Or shall we sometime, — earth born clay discard- 
 ing, 
 Like butterflies emerge in beauteous guise, 
 And joyous in our freedom from the fetters, 
 
 Disport ourselves in some fair paradise 
 Where tears, " blood of the soul," shall fall, no, 
 never ; 
 
 40 
 
Where hearts for faithlessness shall never bleed; 
 Where mis'ry — phantom grim — can never enter, 
 
 And souls, grief-filled, shall ne'er for mercy 
 plead? 
 There — reveling in beauty never-fading, 
 
 Sweet sounds of music falling on the ear, 
 The senses steeped in ecstasy of living, 
 
 Each heart receiving what it holds most dear ; 
 And love in all its joy and bliss, fulfilling 
 
 The dreams of earth, those shadows of the real, 
 That mock us with their swiftly-fleeting visions 
 
 Of happiness we crave, but never feel — 
 Shall we forget amid the joyous present, 
 
 The past with all its somber, leaden hue, 
 And live and love throughout the vast forever? 
 
 Oh tell me, soul of mine, can this be true ? 
 
 4i 
 
THE ANSWER. 
 
 POOR weary one, why dwell among the 
 shadows ? 
 Why pitch your tent within the valley 
 
 dark? 
 Why linger ' mid the loathsome, wretched seeming, 
 
 Where sorrow e'er abides and all — but hark ! 
 Do you not hear Love's voices calling", calling, 
 
 In joyous tones like sound of silver bells, — 
 " Beloved, come with me into the sunshine? " 
 
 Ah, how the music of the voices swells. 
 Look ! Yonder is a multitude, ascending 
 
 The Mount of Joy, whose summit, bathed in 
 light 
 That glows and sparkles with a thousand splendors, 
 
 Proclaims a land where comes no darksome 
 night. 
 There, those whom weary hearts are ever seeking — 
 
 The sisters, Peace and Happiness — do dwell : 
 There Malice, Envy, Hate, can never enter, 
 
 For Charity doth guard the portal well ; 
 And cars, now closed to earthly sounds discordant, 
 
 List ever to the music of the spheres, 
 Whose harmony the King Himself prepared. 
 
 Before the birth of earth's swift, fleeting years. 
 
 42 
 
Yet, listen once again. Arise and follow. 
 
 Poor, timid one, fear not the scourging- rod, 
 But know you, that Love's voices calling, calling, 
 
 Are but the echoes of the voice of God? 
 
 aMfc 
 
 43 
 
Alleluia 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 1ST the Easter joy-bells, ringing, ring- 
 ing. 
 Ah, the blessed news. Peal out, ye 
 
 bells ! 
 "Alleluia ! Alleluia !" saying, 
 Glad the story your sweet music tells; 
 Death and hell no longer are 
 
 triumphant, 
 Christ has triumphed and He 
 reiometh Kino; 
 
 swell the chorus hierher, 
 
 While glad hearts their loving off' rings bring. 
 
 Easter sunshine has a golden glory 
 
 Which to other days is never known ; 
 Easter flowers are fairer than their sisters, 
 
 With a richer fragrance, all their own ; 
 For the glorious Easter day but hallows 
 
 All within its sacred precincts brought, 
 With a mystic, tender, solemn sweetness, 
 
 Like the resurrection lessons taught. 
 
 Ring, ye bells; chime out the wondrous story! 
 Christ has risen ! Tell it o'er and o'er. 
 
 14 
 
Christ, the grave has robbed of all its terrors, 
 King of kings, He opens heaven's door. 
 
 Weary souls look up, shout ' ' Alleluia ! ' ' 
 Know ye not the victory is won? 
 
 Alleluia ! — Easter song of triumph — 
 Glory be to Father, Spirit, Son ! 
 
 *■> 
 
 45 
 
NOW. 
 
 F you've a dime to give a needy 
 brother. 
 Don't keep it till the good im- 
 pulse you smother, 
 But go at once — your gift may 
 bring another. 
 
 NOW IS THE TIME. 
 
 If you know where a kind word 
 should be spoken, 
 Don't linger till the waiting heart is broken, 
 But hasten forth to give Love's kindly token, 
 
 NOW" IS THE TIME. 
 
 If you've dear ones upon your love depending, 
 Don't wait till God in mercy brings an ending 
 To lives made barren by your harsh unbending. 
 
 NOW IS THE TIME. 
 
 If you haye faith in God, the great Creator, 
 Don't hide your colors like a craven traitor; 
 Just be a man, and don't to weakness cater. 
 
 N()W IS THE TIME. 
 
 46 
 
THE SHADOWLESS HOME. 
 
 *$ 
 
 IS true, dear heart, that clouds 
 will come, 
 The while we sojourn here, 
 But we would prize the sunshine 
 less 
 If skies were always clear. 
 
 The flowers would never turn to fruit 
 
 Without the showers of rain ; 
 Nor human hearts be aught without 
 
 The discipline of pain. 
 
 Vet sweet it is to know, that when 
 
 The school of life is past, 
 The needful lessons all are learned, 
 
 And we are home at last, 
 
 That ne'er a. shadow, then, dear heart, 
 
 Will fall athwart our way; 
 But perfect joy and peace abide 
 
 Throughout an endless day. 
 
 47 
 
LOVING SERVICE. 
 
 ^\ REAM not the sunny hours away, 
 Be up and doing ever, 
 For life is short and after life, 
 There comes the vast Forever. 
 And sigh not greater work to do, 
 
 A word that's kindly spoken, 
 A smile, a glance, may help to heal 
 The heart that's nearly broken. 
 
 If Happiness should dwell with you. 
 
 Or Sorrow be your guest, 
 It matters not, put self aside. 
 
 And bravely do your best. 
 The sunshine shed on other lives 
 
 Will surely gild your own, 
 And harvest time will bring to you 
 
 The seed which you have sown. 
 
 Then haste to do the Master's work, 
 
 The cup of water giving. 
 And soon with thankful heart you'll rind 
 
 That life is worth the living. 
 Dream not the sunny hours away, 
 
 Be up and doing ever, 
 For life is short and after life, 
 
 There comes the vast Forever. 
 48 
 
*-; ALMOST HUMAN. 
 
 NOISY old fellow that bumble-bee is," 
 Said a butterfly bright, one day ; 
 1 ' He buzzes away, 
 As much as to say : 
 ' I cannot delay, 
 Get out of my way ! 
 For I am sole monarch of all I survey. ' ' ' 
 
 ' Miss Butterfly would be quite pretty indeed," 
 
 The honey-bee said to the wasp, 
 ' If not quite so gay, 
 
 And fickle they say ; 
 
 She dances all day, 
 
 As though life were play, 
 
 With ne'er a December, but always a May.' v 
 
 Said the snail : ' ' What a worker the honey-bee 
 
 is!" 
 And the beetle replied, " Oh yes ; 
 A worker, I guess, 
 But vain of his dress, 
 And stings more or less ; 
 Now I must confess, 
 
 I like to see all people what they profess. ' ' 
 4 49 
 
Sighed the snail in. return: " This world is all 
 
 wrong — 
 I wonder how long it will last. 
 In days that are past, 
 No slurs could be cast, 
 For no one was fast, 
 But all would be classed 
 As good — for they were good — now I'm 
 
 aghast. ' ' 
 
 A little brown bug, who was passing that way, 
 Heard them talking and stopped in affright : 
 ' You' re in a sad plight, 
 Look up for the light ; 
 The world is all right, 
 Just fly your own kite ; 
 
 Do good and be happy. Goodnight, good- 
 night. ' ' 
 
 50 
 
AN INVALID'S LULLABY. 
 
 j^- HEN the day's broad glare is soft- 
 ened 
 Into dim and purple light, 
 IfJfJd?' In that hour of mystic quiet, 
 
 Just before the shades of night, 
 Lay thine head upon thy 
 pillow, 
 ■i%\ As upon a mother's breast ; 
 Guardian angels, — unseen watchers, — 
 Shall draw near and give the rest. 
 Nay, thou mayst not see them, hear them ; 
 (Not to mortal ears they sing ;) 
 But thou' It feel their blessed presence 
 By the joy and peace they bring. 
 Then, dear heart, when soothed and rested 
 From the tumult of the day, 
 Send a thought of love and blessing 
 To the absent one, I pray; 
 And amid the joyous silence, 
 'Mid the calm and happy peace, 
 Let thy soul from tho'ts of sorrow 
 Find a full and sweet release; 
 
 51 
 
And when night, all silent, tender 
 Wraps her mantle o'er the earth, 
 Close thine eyelids, sweetly slumber 
 Till swift Time to Day gives birth. 
 
 Hush-a-bye, lullaby, rest thee, my dear, 
 Hush-a-bye, lullaby, angels are near. 
 Off into Dreamland now hie thee away ; 
 Leave not its borders till break of the day. 
 Hush-a-bye, lullaby, God will thee keep, 
 Hush-a-bye, lullaby, sleep, sweetly sleep. 
 
 52 
 
FAITH'S TRIUMPH. 
 
 T is easy to be trustful when the sun 
 
 is shining bright, 
 When the birds are singing gaily and 
 
 there's not a cloud in sight ; 
 When the stream of life flows smoothly 
 
 and but ripples can be seen, 
 Dancing, sparkling in the beauty of 
 
 the sunlight's golden sheen. 
 But when smiling skies are hidden by 
 dense clouds of leaden gray, 
 When the wind is moaning sadly, and the birds 
 
 have flown away, 
 When the stream of life is dashing, with an angry, 
 
 sullen roar, 
 Flinging — like frail, broken baubles — wrecks of 
 
 ruined hopes ashore, 
 Can the faith of hearts grow brighter, and their 
 
 trust remain secure, 
 When amid the storms and wreckage Satan's 
 
 tempting wiles allure? 
 Listen, soul, for He has spoken, who is God and 
 
 Lord of all, 
 Then in lowly rev'rence bending, plead with him 
 who hears thy call. 
 53 
 
' ' Peace, my peace, give I unto thee, be not 
 
 troubled or afraid, 
 Never shalt thou fail or falter, if on me thy trust 
 
 is stayed. 
 Tho' the storm clouds gather darkly, and the 
 
 angry billows roar, 
 Yet amid the raging tumult thou shalt sing, and 
 
 never more 
 Can the storms of earth alarm thee, calmly sweet 
 
 thy life shall be, 
 For in perfect peace I'll keep him — him whose 
 
 mind is stayed on me." 
 
 54 
 
LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF THE YOUNGEST CHILD 
 
 OF MR. AND MRS. WM. SMITH. 
 
 HE gates of heaven opened, 
 Emitting floods of light, 
 And slowly forth an angel came, 
 Arrayed in raiment white. 
 
 His mission was to do good ; 
 The Father bade him go, 
 To lighten human suffering, 
 To lessen guilt and woe. 
 
 He comforted the weary, 
 
 Gave courage to the weak ; 
 And led souls gently onward, 
 
 The better part to seek. 
 
 A young and lovely infant 
 
 Lay in his mother's arms, 
 Unheeding the sweet lullaby 
 
 With which a mother charms. 
 
 The angel glided in unseen, 
 
 O'er the suff'rer bended low, 
 And wept that childhood's innocence 
 
 Must ever suffer so. 
 
 55 
 
Then raised his head, while on his face 
 
 A light from Heaven shone, 
 And said, ' ' He must not stay to suffer here, 
 
 I'll take him for mine own." 
 
 The little form lay silent — 
 
 A waxen image fair — 
 But though the casket still was bright, 
 
 The jewel was not there. 
 
 Stilled were the moans of anguish, 
 
 A look of sweetest peace 
 O'erspread his little countenance, 
 
 As though 'twere glad release. 
 
 Then mourn not without ceasing, 
 
 Your loss will be his gain ; 
 You have a treasure now in Heaven, 
 
 Pure, spotless, without stain. 
 
 And where your cherished treasure is, 
 
 There, too, your hearts will be, — 
 Ever with Him who so lovingly says, 
 " Let the little ones come unto Me." 
 
 56 
 
THE NIGHT WIND. 
 
 S I listen to the night wind 
 Whispering, sighing midst 
 the trees, 
 O'er me steals a mystic feel- 
 ing, 
 Half of sadness, half of 
 ease ; 
 For there' s something 
 strangely soothing? 
 Something that can charm and please, 
 In the murmuring of the night wind 
 As it sighs among the trees. 
 
 Oftentimes when weary hearted, 
 
 I have listened to the spell 
 Of its weird, bewitching music, 
 
 (Sweeter far than tongue can tell) 
 Listened till my heart grew calmer, 
 
 And upon the breeze's swell 
 There seemed borne these words of comfort : 
 ' ' Courage ; all will yet be well. ' ' 
 
 Oh, it whispers fairy tidings 
 
 Of strange lands beyond the sea, 
 And of things both grand and lovely, 
 
 Oft it bringeth word to me ; 
 
 57 
 
Yet at times 'tis sadly mournful, 
 Like some wandering refugee, 
 
 Wailing, moaning alway, ever, 
 O'er its wretched misery. 
 
 But the sound that I e'er loved best 
 
 Is the soft and gentle sigh, 
 Seeming, in its magic sweetness, 
 
 Like a plaintive lullaby ; 
 Or like angels whisp'ring to me 
 
 Of that home beyond the sky, 
 Where God shall wipe away all tears 
 
 That now bedim the eye. 
 
 58 
 
DID YOU? 
 
 ID you ever stop an' listen, on a pleasant 
 summer night, 
 When th' skies were blue above 
 you, an' th' stars were shinin 
 bright, 
 When th' moon smiled down upon you in a 
 
 sort o' lovin' way, 
 Bringin 1 to your mind strange fancies — things 
 your mother used to say, 
 And' you threw yourself, contented, on th" cool 
 
 earth at your feet, 
 With th' grasses wavin' 'round you, an' th' clover 
 
 blossoms sweet ? 
 Layin' there an' gazin', dreamy-like, it seemed 
 
 to you, 
 That this earth was most a heaven — that your 
 
 mother's words were true — 
 An' you felt your heart a soft'nin', th' years 
 
 seemed to melt away, 
 Takin' with 'em all th' hardness that had marked 
 
 your manhood's day, 
 Leavin' just a wondrous quiet, an' you lay so calm 
 and still, 
 
 59 
 
Half awake an' half a dreamin' , drinkin' beauty to 
 your fill, 
 
 While th' orchestra of nature played a sweet 
 unwritten tune, 
 
 An' th' fire-flies flashed like rubies on th' emerald 
 robe of June ? 
 
 Did you ever look and listen, on a pleasant sum- 
 mer night, 
 
 (While th' sights an' sounds of nature filled your 
 heart with sweet delight,) 
 
 Till you kind o' tho't, that after all, 'taint chance 
 work that we see, 
 
 But that back of all th' beauty a great Master-mind 
 must be, 
 
 An' somehow you swelled out bigger, — felt your- 
 self more of a man 
 
 When you tho't yourself a portion of th' great 
 Creator's plan, 
 
 An' there came queer tho'ts and feelin's that you 
 can't express — no, never, 
 
 Only peaceful-like, an' soothin' an' — but, say 
 now, did you ever? 
 
 60 
 
LOVE'S OFFERING. 
 
 TO R. BELLE COOKE. 
 
 V ' VE a little word to give you, 
 Dearie mine, 
 I will lay affection's off' ring, 
 
 At your shrine. 
 Will you cherish it with care, 
 For the tender love I bear? 
 Will you smile and think it fair, 
 Dearie mine? 
 
 Had I but a magic wand, 
 
 Dearie mine, 
 Ev'ry gift, yea, ev'ry blessing 
 
 Should be thine. 
 I would give you wealth untold, 
 Fame's fair honors you should hold, 
 Love that never would grow cold, 
 
 Dearie mine. 
 
 But since I have not get the power,. 
 
 Dearie mine, 
 Gifts to bring^you, I'll pray, 
 
 Love divine, 
 To shed blessings on your way, 
 Make life brighter, day by day, 
 Till you bask in heav'n's own ray,. 
 
 Dearie mine. 
 
 61 
 
>---SJ? 
 
 PLEADING. 
 
 OU tell me that you love me, dear, 
 You say your heart is mine ; 
 That life could hold no fairer gift, 
 Than this that I am thine. 
 You whisper that you'll love, dear, 
 Through all the coming years ; 
 And, yet — sometimes your absence grieves, 
 Your thoughtless words bring tears. 
 
 This life is all uncertain, dear, 
 
 Soon may the angel, Death, 
 
 His chill hand place upon my heart 
 
 And still its feeble breath. 
 
 Ah, should you see me lying, dear, 
 
 In calm and dreamless sleep, 
 
 With folded hands above my breast, 
 
 You could but choose to weep. 
 
 And looking on my dead face, dear, 
 
 You'd wonder could it be, 
 
 That e' en your tend' rest words of love 
 
 Would not awaken me ! 
 
 And you would say if once more, dear, 
 
 I would come back to you, 
 
 No unkind word, no thoughtless deed, 
 
 Should grieve a heart so true. 
 
 62 
 
But then — 'twould be too late then, dear, 
 
 Your words would be in vain ; 
 
 For I would be far, far beyond 
 
 The reach of grief or pain. 
 
 And o'er your life of sunshine, dear. 
 
 A shadow would be cast, 
 
 And like sad, restless phantoms, drift 
 
 The mem'ries of the past. 
 
 The thoughtless word once spoken, dear, 
 
 Is gone beyond recall, 
 
 The deed of kindness left undone, 
 
 'Twas needed most of all. 
 
 Oh ! leave not your sweet off rings, dear, 
 
 For my cold, silent clay, 
 
 But bring them now to lighten all 
 
 The burden of today. 
 
 65 
 
CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 
 
 HE Christmas-tide is coming, the beau- 
 tiful Christmas-tide, 
 Its wealth of joy and blessing scatter- 
 ing far and wide. 
 The children's faces brighten, and 
 happy smiles appear, 
 At thoughts of merry Christmas and bounteous 
 
 good cheer ; 
 While visions of filled stockings, of loaded Christ- 
 mas trees, 
 Of Santa Claus, the children's friend, who knows 
 
 just how to please, 
 Come dancing in bright pictures before their daz- 
 zled eyes, 
 And little hearts grow eager, with thoughts of 
 some surprise. 
 
 But to God's older children, it brings a deeper 
 
 thrill, 
 In reverential gladness we muse and think until 
 It seems we hear the chorus of ' ' Peace, good will ' ' 
 
 again, 
 The same the shepherds sang that night, on bold 
 
 Judea's plain. 
 
 64 
 
''Glory to God in the highest" — chanted the 
 
 angelic throng 
 The first that ever, by mortal ears, was heard of 
 
 heaven's song. 
 ' ' Glory to God in the highest, Peace upon earth 
 
 and good will," — 
 How our hearts throb as we read the sweet story, 
 
 wonderful, beautiful still. 
 
 "Glory to God in the highest" — List! angels 
 
 are chanting the strain. 
 " Glory to God in the highest" — let mortals take 
 
 up the refrain ; 
 For unto earth's sorrowing children a Saviour was 
 
 born that day, 
 A King, although low in a manger, a weak, help- 
 less infant he lay. 
 Ah, grand were the words that were spoken to 
 
 shepherds that Christmas night, 
 And ever the old sweet story will fill our sad 
 
 hearts with delight. 
 "Glory to God in the highest" — we'll sing the 
 
 glad message until 
 From around God's throne re-echo the tones of 
 
 ' ' Peace, peace, good will. 
 
 65 
 
LONGING. 
 
 H, for the scent of the 
 
 blossoming locusts, 
 
 Oh, for the smell of 
 
 the new-mown hay, 
 
 Oh, just to hear the 
 
 tree toads ' ' holler' ' , 
 
 The katydids sing in 
 
 the same old way 
 They did, when in 
 boyhood I used to wander 
 Around through the fields of the old home farm, 
 And back to the little red house on the hillside, 
 That sheltered us safely from ev'ry harm! 
 
 Oh, for the sound of the brooklet's soft babble, 
 A sight of the banks fringed with violets rare, 
 Oh, for a glimpse of a barefooted maiden, 
 The glint of the sun in her golden-brown hair! 
 For ah, since they laid her to rest 'neath the daisies 
 The world's not the same, and I cannot be gay, 
 And I long, Oh, I long for the scenes of my 
 
 childhood, — 
 Once more a boy to be, just for a day! 
 
 66 
 
67 
 
TIRED. 
 
 dRED, oh, so tired of the 
 struggle ! 
 Longing for quiet and rest. 
 Yea, even now to be gath- 
 ered, 
 Beautiful Earth, to thy 
 
 breast. 
 List to thy children, Hu- 
 manity ! 
 Hear'st thou the moan and the wail, 
 Rising from hearts torn with anguish, 
 Beaten by foes that assail ? 
 Bitter the cup of their sorrow, 
 Vainly they seek for relief, 
 Falsehood and malice and envy, 
 Adding a sting to their grief. 
 
 Tired, oh, so tired of the struggle ! 
 Longing to lie down and rest. 
 Like a dear mother now fold me, 
 Beautiful Earth, to thy breast. 
 
 69 
 
HE FUNERAL OF THE FLOWERS. 
 
 HERE are the flowers, the pretty 
 flowers, 
 That bloomed so fair and bright? 
 What can have changed the dar- 
 lings so 
 In just a single night? 
 But yesterday they reared their heads 
 In lovely, smiling bloom ; 
 Today the entire garden wears 
 An air of deepest gloom. 
 
 ' ' Last night while all the earth was bathed 
 
 In floods of silvery light, 
 
 Into the garden fair there came 
 
 An elfin plumaged knight. 
 
 His words as honey, smooth and sweet, 
 
 His voice was soft and low, 
 
 His manner bore the subtile charms 
 
 That only such can know. 
 
 1 ' He begged to kiss, just once to kiss 
 The dainty faces sweet, 
 He plead for this one boon to make 
 His happiness complete ; 
 
 70 
 
And in return each flower should wear 
 A shimmering robe of white, 
 And sparkle as with rarest gems — 
 A queen of beauty bright. 
 
 "They yielded to the tempter's power, 
 
 They felt his icy breath, 
 
 Their hearts were chilled, 
 
 Too late, alas ! they knew the kiss meant death. 
 
 The shimmering robes of white they donned — 
 
 They were but burial shrouds — 
 
 And murmuring, 'Farewell, Mother Earth,' 
 
 In dreamless sleep they bowed. 
 
 * ' Then all next day the raindrops fell 
 
 Like tears from mourners' eyes ; 
 
 The wind a plaintive requiem sung, 
 
 With sobs and wails and sighs. 
 
 The birdlings' songs were hushed, no sound 
 
 Of joy through weary hours, 
 
 But deepest, solemn silence — 'twas 
 
 The funeral of the flowers. ' ' 
 
 7i 
 
MEETINGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 LAID upon my pillow a fevered, 
 
 aching brain ; 
 I thought of all life's mysteries, 
 
 its toil and grief and pain ; 
 Of how the hours of sunshine so 
 
 soon are chased away 
 By lowering clouds of sorrow, 
 
 that darken all the day ; 
 My heart was heavy burdened, 
 it seemed I could not bear 
 The load of grief and sorrow, the anxious thought 
 
 of care ; 
 I cried with eager longing for rest from pain and 
 
 strife, 
 Yea, e'en — so tired and weary I — to say farewell 
 
 to life. 
 Then through the lonely silence — ah, how the 
 
 burdens pressed ! 
 I heard these words of comfort, ' ' Come unto me 
 
 and rest." 
 The tumult ceased, and in my soul by earthly 
 
 storms so torn 
 There was a calm. I rested, and for joys I ceased 
 to mourn. 
 
 72 
 
Now, when the road of life becomes too rough for 
 
 weary feet; 
 The burdens heavy to be borne, I'll steal away to 
 
 meet 
 My Saviour, and in pastures green, beside still 
 
 waters flow, 
 In converse sweet I'll find the peace that weary 
 
 souls may know, 
 And then, refreshed, I'll toil along the journey, day 
 
 by day, 
 And heaven gain, because of these sweet meetings 
 
 by the way. 
 
 73 
 
REJOICE. 
 
 GAIN the spring return eth ; 
 Again we hear the voice 
 
 Of nature's children, swelling 
 The chorus grand, "Rejoice!" 
 
 for 
 
 -th. 
 
 " Rejoice ! 
 
 mother, 
 Is waking from her sleep. ' ' 
 ' ' Rejoice ! ' ' comes from the 
 
 hill-tops, 
 From vale and woodland deep. 
 
 The swelling bud, the springing grass, 
 
 To us would seem to say, 
 
 " Praise God ! for though our sleep was long 
 
 We live again today. ' ' 
 
 And ye, O man, ye too shall live ! 
 Although ye fall asleep, 
 It will not last forever ; 
 God will his promise keep. 
 
 Then join with nature's children, 
 And the glad anthem swell — 
 Rejoice ! ye have a Father, 
 Who doeth all things well. 
 
 74 
 
LOOK IN THE RIGHT 
 DIRECTION. 
 
 DME folks ar' alius tellin' that 
 this world is full of woes, 
 An' someone's alius treadin' on 
 
 ther heels er on ther toes; 
 They grumble, fuss and fidget 
 
 an' git in an awful stew ; 
 They make themselves jest mis- 
 er' ble an' other people — 
 Whew ! 
 They'll run a Sunday mile an' 
 more, ter keep out of th' way 
 Of sech poor, silly, babblin' tongues. Can't blame 
 
 'em fer it. Say ! 
 I'll tell ,yer of a homely -truth, thet straight was 
 
 brung ter me: 
 ' ' It matters not how dark th' world, some sun- 
 shine yer will see 
 If yer look in the right direction." 
 
 Some folks ar' alius lookin' up, an' some are 
 
 lookin' down, 
 An' some, yer know, fer others' faults ar' alius 
 
 lookin' roun'. 
 
 75 
 
An' others, still, ar' lookin' at th' clothes a feller 
 wears, 
 
 ( Sech ones ain't worth th' mindin', an' fer them 
 nobody cares) ; 
 
 But never mind what others do, 't won't help your 
 case along - ; 
 
 Just paddle now yer own canoe an' sing out clear 
 an' strong. 
 
 Tho' all th' world looks dark an' drear, don't give 
 in to th' blues. 
 
 There's light somewhere, you'll find it so, if com- 
 mon sense you use 
 
 An' "look in th' right direction.'' 
 
 CZZZD 
 
 76 
 
TWILIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 N the fitful, gleaming firelight, 
 
 I sit musing all alone, 
 While the wind, outside, is 
 chanting in weird, minor un- 
 dertone ; 
 And the raindrops plash and 
 tinkle 'gainst my window, as 
 in vain 
 They are seeking, like strange 
 elfins, entrance to my fair domain. 
 On the wall the rlick'ring shadows sway and mingle 
 
 as they go 
 Backward, forward, hither, thither in a phantom 
 
 dance, and lo ! 
 From the book-lined shelves forth stepping comes 
 
 a strange-assorted throng, — 
 Famous ones of past and present ; heroes, both of 
 
 war and song ; 
 And I smile to see staid Lincoln shaking hands 
 with good Bill Nye ; 
 
 grand Shakespeare complimenting Ella 
 Wheeler Wilcox. I 
 
 And 
 
 77 
 
Can but listen in amazement to the words of 
 
 William Penn, — 
 "Mr. Ingersoll, thou'st solved it. What dost 
 
 think of now and then?" 
 Yonder Frances Willard's lab 'ring with St. Paul: 
 
 ' ' Tis a mistake. 
 Women should not aye keep silence. Let them 
 
 rightful places take." 
 And Mark Twain but grins and chuckles waiting 
 
 to give each a hit ; 
 While the eye of Thomas Kempis silently rebukes 
 
 such wit. 
 Listen ! strains of softest music float and tremble 
 
 on the air, 
 Like the sound of angels sighing, grieving o'er 
 
 earth's pain and care. 
 Changing now to theme majestic, wave on wave 
 
 harmonious roll, 
 Till in ecstasy my spirit quivers, yea, my prisoned 
 
 soul 
 Longs to burst restraining fetters and explore the 
 
 great unknown ; 
 Borne beyond all thought of earth -life by the 
 
 music's mystic tone ; 
 
 78 
 
And I turn my head in wonder who the artist, 
 
 great, may be, 
 When I find bold daylight staring with unblinking 
 
 eyes at me. 
 All my guests have left me, vanished, and before 
 
 the empty grate 
 I sit staring, and the wind mocks, ' ' Learn an idle 
 
 dreamer's fate. '.' 
 But I heed not. Would I lose them, dreams and 
 
 fancies that oft cheer? 
 Nay, I'll cling more closely to them, they shall be 
 
 companions dear. 
 When the cold world shrugs its shoulders, mis- 
 construes, misunderstands, 
 I'll retire within my castle, bolt the door 'gainst 
 
 all demands, 
 Call to me my loyal subjects, o'er my dreamland 
 
 hold full sway, 
 And in atmosphere congenial pass the happy hours 
 
 away. 
 
 79 
 
TH ' BEES AIR. A SWARMIN'. 
 
 i |3333^fce£3| H ' bees air a swarmin' El- 
 viry, come quick, 
 An' git my big hat an' white 
 
 No knowin' where them 
 pesky critters '11 light — 
 
 In tree top, or on a fence 
 rail. 
 
 Come, hurry Elviry, they're 
 makin' a fuss 
 An' off fer th' meader, I vow ! 
 Er — no — they're a pintin' fer that apple tree, 
 An' e'en a' most on the top bough ! 
 They're mighty high-minded, but what's the use 
 Of them goin' a way off up there ! 
 If bees air as knowin' as some people think, 
 They act rather queer, I declare ! 
 Well, Viry, that means some tall climbin for you, 
 Good thing you're as spry as a cat, 
 Fer my jints won't stand what they would years 
 
 ago, 
 There's no way of gittin' round that. 
 Now sweeten some water an' give 'em a dose, 
 You'll find it'll work like a charm ; 
 
 80 
 
They'll think thet they're just struck a hull 
 
 sugar bush, 
 Right here on this old apple farm. 
 Go stiddy, Elviry, it's ticklish work, 
 A carryin' a pail up thet tree, 
 An' if you should tumble, pail, water an' all, 
 I'm thinkin' — just where might I be, 
 Fer them little critters they aint very shy, 
 The fact is they sometimes git bold. 
 But then they're intelligent, so the books say, 
 An' work by a plan, we air told. 
 You ready, Elviry? Wal, take yer whisk broom 
 An' give 'em a sweet-water shower, 
 While I stan' back here for a minit an' rest, 
 An' wipe off th' sweat. Tis an hour 
 Sence they left th' hive, an' I reckon it's time 
 They's gettin' to bizness. Don't stop, 
 But keep on a sprinklin', an' I'll scoop 'em down, 
 This bee catcher "11 reach to the top. 
 We'll soon have' em landed, an' "taint sech a job, 
 We're gittin' 'em good, we air, now ; 
 I tell you that bees is a good deal like folks, 
 They're all right if you jest know how — ovv ! ow ! 
 There's bees in my bonnet ! Elviry, come quick ! 
 Jehosaphat ! ! Jimminy ! Oh — h, h ! ! ! 
 
 Si 
 
Now don't stand there starin' ! Git this off my 
 
 head ! 
 I haint no one-horse circus show. 
 If you had a done as I told you to first, 
 I wouldn 't hev ben in this muss. 
 My head's swellin' bigger n a barrel, I know. 
 I don't often make a great fuss, 
 But, good law's-a-mighty ! talk about pain ! 
 This here'll make most any man beg. 
 It's wuss'n th' toothache and — Viry ! I — I — 
 I fergot to tie down my pant legs, 
 An' they're goin' up 'em ! Now what shall I do ? 
 An' one's goin' straight down my back ! 
 Elviry ! git round here ! Come, don't be so slow, 
 Jest give 'im a good, thumpin' whack — 
 That's it ! Don't I wish them fool fellers was 
 
 here, 
 Thet write about what they don't know ! 
 Jest put one in my place an' he'd change his tune, 
 An' wouldn't I stan' here and crow to — 
 Elviry, I vum, there's some more startin' out. 
 They ken go, too, fer all that I care, 
 An' John' than ken hive his own bees arter this. 
 I'm mad nuff to e'en a' most swear, 
 An' me a good deacon fer nigh twenty year, 
 
 82 
 
I tell you — Och ! ! ! Durn it all ! There ! ! 
 They talk about Job — ' ' such a good patient 
 
 man" — 
 They may call him a saint if they please, 
 But one thing I know, an' you can't fool me 
 
 thar, 
 That old man — Job — never kept bees. 
 
 cp^ 
 
 83 
 
LITTLE NELL 
 
 niiiii 1 J 
 
 iii^i' 111 
 
 ARK ! I hear the raindrops falling, 
 Little Nell ; 
 And the wind is sighing, sobbing, 
 Through the dell 
 p^- Where you used to love to stray ; 
 P^S^f([ ; But the brooklet,s ceased to 
 
 xT piay ' 
 
 It but sings a mournful lay, 
 Little Nell. 
 
 Oh, the days are dark and lonely, 
 
 Little Nell ; 
 Since you left us, e'en the flowers you 
 
 Loved so well 
 All have drooped their heads and died, 
 And the dark ning shadows glide 
 Ever, ever at my side, 
 
 Little Nell. 
 
 Do you hear me in yon Heaven, 
 
 Little Nell ? 
 When I call you, vainly call, and 
 
 Try to tell 
 
 84 
 
How my aching heart makes moan 
 Since you left me here alone, 
 And the world has dreary grown, 
 Little Nell? 
 
 Are you happy, are you happy, 
 
 Little Nell? 
 Do the angels sweetest words of 
 
 Comfort tell ? 
 Do you never think of me, 
 Long to set my spirit free, 
 That together we might be, 
 
 Little Nell ? 
 
 Joy ! The angels now are calling, 
 
 Little Nell. 
 Calling me to join the one I 
 
 Loved so well. 
 Ah ! our souls too close had grown, 
 And I could not live alone ; 
 Yes, — I'm coming to mine own, 
 
 Little Nell. 
 
 85 
 
AT CLOSE OF DAY OR A THOUGHT FOR 
 EVENTIDE. 
 
 HE twilight hour draws on apace, 
 
 That hour of sweetest calm, 
 
 And evening, with its tender hush, 
 
 Falls like a healing balm 
 
 O'er all the world, so wearied with 
 
 The tumult of the day ; 
 
 And gladly earth's frail children now 
 
 The homeward call obey. 
 
 The day is going home to God. 
 
 Before the shades of night 
 
 It flees, and silent wings its way 
 
 Toward the realms of light, 
 
 Where, soon before the ' ' Great White Throne' ' 
 
 A record it will give 
 
 Of words and deeds — aye, yours and mine, 
 
 For therefore did it live. 
 
 Oh ! let us strive into each hour 
 
 Some loving deed to place, 
 
 Some little, tender, helpful word, 
 
 Some ministry of grace, 
 
 That when the day goes home, to God, 
 
 A record it may bear 
 
 Of burdens eased and hearts made glad, 
 
 Our crown of blessing there. 
 
 86 
 
THE UNBROKEN CIRCLE. 
 
 Written for Rev. and Mrs. John Van Antwerp on their fifty-first 
 wedding anniversary. 
 
 ROM the bustle and din of this great 
 
 busy world, 
 From the sorrow, the care, and the 
 
 strife, 
 We have turned us aside, a brief season 
 
 to dream 
 O'er the beautiful mem Vies of life. 
 
 Long, long years ago, when love wa 
 as sweet 
 As the dew in the heart of a rose, 
 When vows that were spoken were tender and true 
 As the soul of a child in repose, 
 
 The great loving God watching o'er this fair earth, 
 And seeing two lives incomplete, 
 With infinite wisdom, trained, guided, and taught 
 Till each for the other was meet, 
 
 And the two were made one. Ah, blest was the 
 
 day 
 Whose mem'ry we now celebrate, 
 For the love that was pledged in its purity then 
 Ne'er swerved from its lofty estate. 
 
 87 
 
As years glided by two wee sunbeams there came 
 To brighten and cheer the home nest, 
 And teach yet more fully God's lesson of love, — 
 The truest, the purest, the best. 
 
 But old Father Time neither falter nor halts ; 
 And now on the journey of life 
 They've passed many milestones, and oft back- 
 ward glance 
 O'er the years that with blessings were rife. 
 
 And still is the circle unbroken. Once more 
 
 We meet 'round the family hearth 
 
 To exchange loving greetings and bind old home 
 
 ties, 
 The sweetest, the dearest on earth. 
 
 With reverent hearts we give joyful thanks ; 
 
 Accept them, O Father of love, 
 
 And when freed from earth we will still sing thy 
 
 praise 
 In an unbroken circle above. 
 
 88 
 
A MESSAGE. 
 
 H lips, so slow to warm to love's 
 
 caress, 
 Oh hearts, that beat so faintly 
 
 lives to bless, 
 Oh ears, that hear but moans of 
 dire distress, 
 Oh eyes, that will not see God's tenderness, 
 Awake and learn the truth. The Heavens so fair, 
 The flowers that rling their perfume on the air, 
 The birds, with warbled melody so rare, 
 Yea one and all, that " God is love," declare. 
 
 89 
 
LINES 
 
 On the death of Mr. Samuel T. Cooke, who died August 17, 1883, in his 
 ninety-first year. 
 
 HEN the shadows of the twi- 
 light 
 Deepened into starry night, 
 And the busy day was ended, 
 Heavenward took his spirit 
 flight. 
 
 Sons and daughters clustered 
 round him, 
 Loving friends were gathered near 
 Seeking some last aid to offer, 
 And his dying hours to cheer. 
 
 It was meet that he should leave us 
 
 In the hush and calm of night ; 
 He had passed life's busiest season — 
 
 Passed the glare of noonday light, 
 
 And had gained the shady pathway, 
 Reached the deep, dark river's brim, 
 
 Where he stood and calmly waited 
 Till the summons came for him 
 
 9" 
 
To join his well-beloved 
 
 Friends and kindred gone before 
 To that bright and blessed country 
 
 Where sad partings are no more. 
 
 God in heaven, help and comfort 
 
 Those whose hearts with anguish burn 
 
 Oh, deal gently in thy mercy — 
 Father, mother, both are gone, 
 
 And our souls are filled with sorrow, 
 
 Yet shall we not be alone ; 
 For " Lo, /am with you ahvay," 
 
 Are the words of thy dear Son. 
 
 Qfr 
 
 9' 
 
GOD'S POWER. 
 
 HE power of God ! What words 
 can ever tell 
 Of that vast power, within whose 
 
 depths there dwell 
 Undreamed of riches, blessings 
 
 all untold, 
 And mysteries just waiting to 
 
 unfold 
 Their secrets rare, to man's ex- 
 pectant heart, 
 When he doth learn to choose the better part. 
 
 " For these things, greater also, shall ye do," 
 (Said One, whose words were ever grand and true,) 
 
 11 If ye abide in me and I in you." 
 O, soul of mine, prepare the temple fair 
 
 That God's own life may find a center there, 
 And vou the wonders of his love declare. 
 
 92 
 
CHRISTMAS BELLS. 
 
 INKLE, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
 
 Hear the merry sleigh bells jingle, 
 Christmas' s coming, don't you feel 
 
 it in the air ? 
 See the snowrlakes swirling, twirling, 
 In a mazy dance they're whirling, 
 Slyly kissing cheeks of rosy maidens fair. 
 
 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
 
 Hear the merry sleigh bells jingle ; 
 
 See the smiles and happy faces all aglow. 
 
 Not for any clime or nation 
 
 But for the whole creation 
 
 Christmas joy and Christmas greetings freely now. 
 
 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
 
 Still the merry sleigh bells jingle, 
 
 While the happy crowds go hurrying, scurrying 
 
 past. 
 Everything is so mysterious 
 That it makes one quite delirious, 
 And — but Christmas will reveal it all at last. 
 
 93 
 
THE MANIAC'S APPEAL. 
 
 UT away the cherished letters, 
 Treasured with such tender care, 
 For the sight brings bitter anguish, 
 And the pain I cannot bear. 
 Ah ! the -words Love's language 
 
 breathing, 
 Won a heart whose loyal trust 
 
 Could not brook the shock of finding 
 
 Its fair idol made of dust, 
 
 And is like a fragrant flow' ret, 
 
 Rudely plucked by careless hands, 
 
 That is flung aside, and dying, 
 
 Lies unnoticed on the sands. 
 
 But the brain ! — Ah ! who the workings 
 
 Of this restless brain can know 
 
 Through which fires of hell seem flaming 
 
 Lighting with their lurid glow 
 
 Forms and faces of weird phantoms — 
 
 Fiends incarnate — as they leer 
 
 At fair Reason's temple lying 
 
 Desolate, forsaken, drear? 
 
 Ha ! laugh on ! let wilder jesting 
 
 Ring; out with bloodcurdling mirth, 
 
 94 
 
For your triumph-hour is fleeting! 
 Soon will kindly Mother Earth 
 Fold unto her willing bosom 
 This frail creature of the dust; 
 Hear you not the dripping, dripping 
 Of the heart's blood ? Die it must. 
 Let no unkind word be spoken 
 Unto her who failed my need. 
 God is just. But for my weakness 
 Human charity I plead. 
 
 M 
 
 95 
 
A PROPHECY. 
 
 1 HERE'S mystic sweetness in the 
 
 air 
 Like balmy breath of flowers ; 
 Mute harbinger of coming good, 
 PfiH ^ pleasant, sunny hours. 
 
 The soft, pulsating atmosphere, 
 With dreaminess imbued, 
 Steals o'er my lang'rous spirit, and 
 Sweet visions, rosy-hued, 
 Float ever on before me with 
 Their luring, witching grace — 
 Elusive, fleeting phantoms whose 
 Fair forms I cannot trace. 
 
 Ah ! Mother Nature, when you deign 
 
 To woo with subtle art, 
 
 Your sweet, seductive graces, can but 
 
 Charm the sternest heart. 
 
 We know you are capricious, and 
 
 Your moods are changeful quite, 
 
 With morning smiles and sunshine, you 
 
 Give clouds and tears at night. 
 
 Though long you've been both harsh and cold, 
 
 Soon coldness will be past ; 
 
 With flowers bedecked, and garlanded, 
 
 You'll bring us joy at last. 
 
 96 
 
KATY DID— WHAT? 
 
 KATY DID," we hear you singing 
 On a pleasant summer evening. 
 ' Katy did ! she did, did, did, did, 
 Pray what did poor Katy do ? 
 Did she — pretty, fairy Katy, 
 Coyest maiden in all elrland, 
 Winning hearts but for a pastime — 
 To her lover prove untrue ? 
 Did she lure, with softest glances, 
 Whirling in the fairy dances, 
 Did she sigh and softly whisper 
 Love's old story, ever new? 
 Or did she, commands defying, 
 Clinging to her heart's choice treasure, 
 Vanish from the haunts of fairies 
 And return no more to view ? 
 
 Were you sworn to keep the secret 
 Of the pretty, fairy Katy, 
 Coyest maiden in all elfland ? 
 If so, to the vow you 're true. 
 
 97 
 
' ' Katy did ! ' ' you sing it sweetly, 
 But you baffle us completely, 
 For you stop there most discreetly, 
 And — what did poor Katy do? 
 
 
 f' 
 
 10 
 
 98 
 
THANKSGIVIN' 
 
 H ! the turkey's in the oven, 
 An' the pies are on the shelf, 
 An' the doughnuts in the crock, 
 
 they're fat an' round ; 
 Oh ! the teakettle's a hummin' 
 While we're waitin' for the comin' 
 Of the folks to spend — but, hark ! I hear a sound. 
 
 Here they come, almost by dozens — 
 
 Uncles, aunts, sweethearts an' cousins. 
 Tell you what ! — ain't they a happy, jolly crew ! 
 
 Hear the merry voices laughin', 
 
 An' the boys an' girls a chaffin', 
 An' the babies even look as tho' they knew ! 
 
 Now we're seated at the table, 
 
 Uncle John, who best is able, 
 Thanks the Lord for all the blessin's, old and new, 
 
 For the crops abundant yielded, 
 
 For the grace which us has shielded, 
 For the love of friends an' family, ever true. 
 
 But the best of all's the evenin', 
 (Sweethearts sittin' side by side), 
 
 99 
 lofC, 
 
When the laughter an' the fun are havin' sway, 
 
 An' the nuts an' popcorn snowy, 
 
 An' the apples red and showy — 
 Ah ! there's nothin' better than Thanksgivin' Day. 
 
A BIRTHDAY OFFERING. 
 
 TO M. F. F. 
 
 ! sweet are the rosebuds of glad 
 
 summer time, 
 When wrapped in dark mantles 
 of green, 
 "o Their dear, dainty faces just peep 
 shyly forth, 
 The folds of their garments between ; 
 And gorgeous the full-blossomed rose as it flings 
 Its perfume abroad on the air, 
 Inviting, by virtue of beauty and grace, 
 Each passer its fragrance to share. 
 
 But dearer to me is the half-opened flower 
 
 With charms that are coyly concealed 
 
 As it sways in the breeze, and to kiss of the sun 
 
 Or the dew, half reluctlantly yields 
 
 Its sweet, subtle odor, a promise of good 
 
 The future may grandly unfold ; 
 
 And softly I sigh as I watch it each day, 
 
 Can such loveliness fade or grow old ? 
 
Fair maiden just entering womanhood now, 
 
 No rare, costly off'ring I bring, 
 
 But simply a little half-opened white rose — 
 
 Around it love's incense will cling — 
 
 And if — nesded lovingly o'er your warm heart 
 
 It breathes a fond message from me, 
 
 Not vainly hath lived it, my little white rose, 
 
 A pure, fitting emblem of thee. 
 
 5^ 
 
APPLE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 EAUTIFUL apple blossoms, 
 Pure as the drifted snow, 
 Fragrant as breath of the angels 
 Wafted to. mortals below. 
 
 Why are you blushing a delicate 
 Tint like the roseate dawn ? 
 Has the South Wind in his wooing 
 Blushes of loveliness drawn ? 
 
 Or has the sun's ardent kisses 
 
 Cast o'er your heart love's sweet spell ? 
 
 Ah, you nod gracefully, shyly, 
 
 But you your secret don't tell. 
 
 Nay, I '11 not press you your secret, 
 Safe in your flower-hearts shall be ; 
 But as I lie idly dreaming, 
 Under the old apple tree, 
 
 Softly the gentle breeze whispers 
 Through the perfume-laden air, 
 And, with the present forgotten, 
 Visions of loveliness rare 
 
 103 
 
Bid me still hope for the future 
 All that the past has denied, 
 Sunshine to follow the shadows, — 
 Sunshine which no clouds shall hide. 
 
 Dear dainty apple blossoms, 
 
 Beautiful guests of the spring, 
 
 Glad are the tho'ts you have brought me, 
 
 Round you sweet mem'ries will cling. 
 
 And should Hope droop her fair pinions, 
 Softly I'll whisper, "Be true, 
 Patiently wait, they are coming — 
 Springtime and sunshine to you." 
 
 104 
 
The KING'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 N, on they go — the eager, 
 
 restless throngs 
 • Which fill, from morn till eve, 
 a city street, 
 Yes, hurrying along, for life 
 
 is short, 
 And filled with gracious 
 
 promises that greet 
 The hearts which yearn for 
 earthly wealth or fame, 
 And lure them on, the golden prize to clasp — 
 A longed-for prize that all too oft, alas ! 
 But turns to dust and ashes in the grasp. 
 Alone, apart, unheeded by the throng, 
 A little barefoot child, with outstretched hands, 
 Makes mute appeal. No common beggar she. 
 With drooping, downcast eyes, she waiting stands, 
 Her baby lips refuse to voice the plea, — 
 Her little face a picture of despair. 
 Oh God ! are human hearts so callous grown ? 
 Will no one heed the silent, pleading prayer ? 
 Forth stepping from the crowd, a girlish form, 
 Her fair face all aglow with love divine, 
 
 105 
 
Bends o'er the sorrowing child, and bending thus, 
 
 There gleams and sparkles in the bright sunshine, 
 
 A tiny silver cross. Aye, bow the head, 
 
 For now a greater than a human friend 
 
 Fulfills the gracious words His lips once spoke, 
 
 ' ' Lo, I am with you alway to the end. ' ' 
 
 "Please, ma'am, I did not beg," a sweet voice 
 
 said, 
 " I thought, perhaps, that those who had to spare 
 Would gladly drop some pennies in my hand, 
 For mama said, ' Tis always right to share 
 With those who have a need.' My mama's dead. 
 I wish I could die, too ! She only died 
 A little while ago, but Oh ! it seems 
 So long without a mother ! Sister's tried 
 To do, but she is sick. I fear she'll die, 
 And then I shall be left all, all alone — " 
 The little trembling lips can say no more ; 
 The little voice ends in a plaintive moan. 
 An attic, brown and bare, devoid of light 
 Save that which steals through one lone window 
 
 pane, 
 (Strange irony of fate), is called a home. 
 Home, that dear place without which life seems 
 
 vain. 
 
 106 
 
There, lying on a cot, her dark eyes closed, 
 A young girl counts the slowly passing hours. 
 Mayhap she sleeps and sufferings forgot, 
 Dreams of green fields and flovv'r-strewn sylvan 
 
 bowers ; 
 Then murmurs as she opes her eyes to see 
 A vision of pure loveliness so near, — 
 " The God of heaven, whom my mother loved, 
 Has sent one of his beauteous angels here. ' ' 
 Day after day, the gentle maiden comes 
 To give her tender ministries of love, 
 And alway, ever, is her talk of Him, 
 Her Saviour, in the blessed home above, 
 Till, list'ning to her gracious words, there comes 
 Into the sufferer's heart God's holy peace, 
 And trusting in the love that never fails, 
 She waits the welcome summons of release. 
 Now is that attic brown a hallowed spot 
 Illumined by a more than earthly light, 
 And heaven joins in songs of grateful praise, 
 For e'en the little child has learned aright. 
 A solemn silence fills the attic now, 
 As from pale lips the breath of life comes slow, 
 And in that room the King of heaven stands, 
 And angel watchers, gliding to and fro. 
 
 107 
 
Death comes — grim Death — to lay his icy hand 
 Upon the heart and still its beating, now, 
 To mold the waxen form with rigid touch, 
 To set his seal upon the pallid brow ; 
 But starts aback, and falling on his knees, 
 Bows low in homage to a greater power, 
 While tenderly the Son of God receives 
 A ransomed soul, triumphant in that hour. 
 Hush ! silent are the choirs of heaven now, 
 And golden harps sound sweetly, soft and low. 
 The Son of Man, his pierced hands outstretched, 
 Says, " Not in vain it was I suffered so." 
 The pages of the Book of Life he turns, 
 While all the courts of heaven with music ring, 
 And o'er a name, unknown to fame, he writes 
 These glorious words, " A Daughter of the King." 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 08 
 
GOD IS LOVE. 
 
 HE flower that flings its perfume on 
 
 the air, 
 Where weary toilers breath its fra- 
 grance rare, 
 Speaks silently [to all who see it 
 there, 
 " God is love." 
 
 The happy bird that floats through endless space, 
 Or flits from tree to tree with matchless grace, 
 Sings blithely from aerial resting-place, 
 ' ' God is love. ' ' 
 
 And should the children of His tend' rest care, 
 Alone refuse the hymn of praise to share, 
 Refuse the glorious tidings to declare ? 
 ' ' God is love. ' ' 
 
 Awake ! ye children of the heavenly King, 
 Awake ! your great Creator's praise to sing — 
 Yea, let the whole earth with this message ring, 
 " God is love." 
 
 109 
 
PRAISE. 
 
 RAISE God when 
 
 the sun is shining, 
 
 Praise God when 
 
 rain-drops fall, 
 Praise God when the 
 clouds are heavy, 
 
 And darkness seems o'er all. 
 
 Why praise him, then, dear heart? 
 (List to his holy word,) 
 All things together work for good 
 To them that love the Lord. 
 
 Because 
 
TWILIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 AY is dying ! O'er the land- 
 scape 
 Twilight shadows gently fall ; 
 Soon the night her sable 
 
 mantle 
 Will have covered over 
 all. 
 
 In the west a golden glimmer 
 
 Of the sunset's parting ray 
 Lingers yet, but soon its brightness 
 
 Will be changed from gold to gray, 
 
 And the purple of the twilight, 
 
 With its sleepy birdling's song, 
 Soon will be a midnight darkness 
 
 With its silence deep and long. 
 
 But though seemingly forsaken, 
 
 Left to darkness and despair, 
 O'er the earth there' e One still watching, 
 
 Guarding it with tend' rest care, 
 
 in 
 
Till the darkness and the shadows 
 
 In their turn shall flee away, 
 And the world, refreshed, awakens 
 
 To a new and glorious day. 
 
 So to those whose hearts are aching, 
 
 " Life song changed to sobbing prayer, n 
 
 Desolation round about them, 
 
 Darkness, darkness everywhere — 
 
 Think not that you are forsaken, 
 He who slumbers not nor sleeps, 
 
 Though the night be long and dreary, 
 Still His faithful vigil keeps. 
 
 Lovingly He'll guard and guide you 
 Through the darkness, lone and drear, 
 
 Till he brings you to that haven 
 
 Where there's no more doubt or fear. 
 
 Where the sunshine of His presence 
 
 Will bring happiness and rest, 
 And you'll see with clearer vision 
 
 How for you God's ways were best. 
 
 Oh, the rapture of the morning 
 
 Of that grand eternal day ! 
 Oh, the beauty of the sunshine 
 
 When the mists have rolled away ! 
 
No more sorrow, no more sighing, 
 
 No more bitter tears to fall, 
 But our " Home, sweet Home," forever, 
 
 And God's tender love o'er all. 
 
 113 
 
MY SECRET. 
 
 HOU ask me if I love you, and you bid me 
 tell you true. 
 _ You say your heart is longing sore for 
 these words " I love you." 
 I feel your arms about me in a tender 
 
 close embrace ; 
 Your kisses, like the summer showers, fall 
 
 soft upon my face. 
 Your tones, melodious and low, are music 
 to mine ear, 
 The while you plead so earnestly those longed-for 
 
 words to hear. 
 Now bend your head yet lower still, while I my 
 
 secret tell ; 
 ('Tis such a sweet, sweet secret that I pray you 
 
 guard it well ;) 
 As flowers love the sunshine, or the earth the fresh- 
 
 'ning dew, 
 Ah, listen ! I will whisper it, " So, sweetheart, I 
 love you." 
 
 114 
 
MIKE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 Wm$m- ^LITTLE Irish maiden, wid her 
 
 eyes o' Irish blue, 
 
 '^7|^\\ T^ le shwatest little blossom that 
 
 #Sfe' ou ^ Ireland iver grew, 
 
 ifS^2 ^ s wnats makin' life fer me most 
 
 MsL { intheristin' now. 
 
 A Fer, by me faith, Oi don't know 
 
 s where Oi'm at, nor whin, nor 
 
 how. 
 
 She'll walk wid me on Sunday, an' she '11 look into 
 
 me eyes 
 In sich a tinder, lovin' way, Oi think Oi'm in th' 
 
 skies 
 A floatin', an' a list'nin' to th' happy angels' song, 
 An' by me side an' angel that's th' brightest in th' 
 
 throng. 
 
 But Oh ! whin nixt Oi mate her, no angel do Oi 
 
 see, 
 She's jist a tantalizin' sprite what's bent on teasin' 
 
 me. 
 
 115 
 
Th' spharkle's dancin' in her eye, an' on her 
 
 pachbloom cheek 
 Th' dimples, loike mischievous imps, ar' playin' 
 
 hide an 1 seek. 
 
 Me heart, that was as light as foam, becomes a 
 
 chunk o' lead, 
 Oi think Oi'll go an' hang meself, sich tho'ts ar' 
 
 in me head, 
 Whin softly-like she says, "Mike, dear," — O 
 
 what a joy is life ! 
 What sinseless fools thim poets be who says wid 
 
 care 'tis rife, 
 
 Fer shure 'tis one long blessin' ! an' — but what's 
 
 th' rist she said? 
 An' what's this thumpin' 'neath me vest, an' buz- 
 
 zin' in me head? 
 Oi'll clasp her in me lovin' — Och ! she's gone 
 
 agin, Oi vow ! 
 Will some one plaze to tell me where Oi'm at, or 
 
 whin, or how? 
 
 116 
 
On the Death of Mrs. Smith Lasher. 
 
 HEY tell me she is dead — but 
 ah, not so. 
 Just passed within the thin and 
 
 shadowy vail 
 That hides her from our dim, 
 
 imperfect view ; 
 She waits, and mayhap grieves 
 
 that hearts so true 
 Should mourn as tho' she were 
 
 far, far away ; 
 Or deem her changed, in that 
 she loves them less 
 Than when she dwelt in her frail 
 house of clay, 
 And lived and moved among them but to bless. 
 Poor aching hearts, look up and comfort gain, 
 (The God she served is still a God of love, ) 
 And let her life speak thro' your lives for aye, 
 For charity and love and truth alway. 
 Then through the lonely silence when you miss 
 The word of counsel, or the fond caress — 
 She lives, she loves, she is — praise God for this — 
 The very essence of Hope's blessedness. 
 
 117 
 
GOOD BYE. 
 
 H~~ OOD BYE, Ah, dearest, do not falter 
 Nor shrink, as though the word gave bitter 
 pain, 
 
 'Tis but an uttered wish, a benediction, 
 A prayer that God will bring you safe again 
 To where love ever waits to give you greet- 
 ing ; 
 Love whose true light will never fade nor 
 die ; 
 
 Love upon which God's smile shall rest in blessing. 
 Sweetheart, good bye, good bye. 
 
 Good bye, yet know you not the meaning? 
 'Tis " God be with you," dear one, and to you 
 Could e'er be brought a word more sweet, more 
 
 tender ? 
 More fraught with precious meaning or more true? 
 Around your neck Til twine my arms so closely 
 Your fond heart will not grieve or breathe a sigh 
 The while I whisper softly love's sweet message, 
 " Sweetheart, good bye, good bye." 
 
 118 
 
JUL 111900